


Afternoons in the Forge

by birdkeeperklink (speculating)



Series: Wherever I'm with You [2]
Category: The Hobbit (Jackson Movies), The Hobbit - All Media Types
Genre: Brief Mild Sexual Fantasy, Companion Piece, Don't copy to another site, Fluff, Idiots in Love, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-06-11
Updated: 2019-06-11
Packaged: 2020-04-24 09:31:50
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 773
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19170520
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/speculating/pseuds/birdkeeperklink
Summary: Bilbo has developed a habit of hanging around the forge.  Thorin is curious about why--but he's definitely not complaining.This is a POV flip of a scene in chapter 8 of "Wherever I'm with You," so it might not make much sense if you haven't read that.





	Afternoons in the Forge

**Author's Note:**

  * For [LightGreySea](https://archiveofourown.org/users/LightGreySea/gifts).



> In a comment on chapter 8 of "Wherever I'm with You," [LightGreySea](https://archiveofourown.org/users/LightGreySea/pseuds/LightGreySea) said it would have been nice to see Thorin's POV of the scene. I agreed, and so...ta da! Because of its origin as a POV flip of a particular scene, some dialogue is lifted directly from that scene.
> 
> The sexual content is really, really mild and barely there, but I thought I'd better tag and rate for it anyway.
> 
> I hope you enjoy reading this as much as I enjoyed writing it! It was nice to have a reason to stay in this universe for a little bit longer. :)

There was a hypnotic sort of comfort in forging. It had a rhythm, a music all its own, that had been in Thorin’s blood since he was old enough to lift a hammer. When he was young, he lost himself in the rhythm to escape his lessons, then to escape the political meetings that were gradually growing less fruitful and more painful as his grandfather grew greedier and more paranoid with each passing season.

After the dragon came, forging was equal parts escape and necessary labour. It paid to put food in his people’s mouths--and losing himself in the rhythm eased his beleaguered mind and body.

He wasn’t sure what to think when Bilbo began joining him in the forge most afternoons. All he seemed inclined to do was sit and watch, occasionally with his pipe, but he didn’t disturb Thorin by word or action.

Thorin at first thought perhaps Bilbo was ensuring that he was working hard to earn his keep, but he put the thought from his mind almost as soon as he had it. It wasn’t in Bilbo’s nature, for one thing, and for another, the subject of rent or any other sort of monetary payment seemed to have become taboo to Bilbo, as he became mysteriously deaf whenever the topic was broached, however carefully. He would magically regain his hearing as soon as the subject changed, and Thorin, Balin, and Dís had collectively decided not to make another attempt.

Still, he was at a loss for any other reason for Bilbo to sit by nearly every day while Thorin worked. He was aware that he tended to become so engrossed that he spoke little even when working alongside Fíli, so Bilbo certainly wasn’t there for the stimulating conversation. He was a wealthy gentlehobbit, so it wasn’t as though he was observing in hopes of learning the trade, either.

_And there are certainly prettier views in the Shire,_ Thorin thought ruefully. Grime and sweat did nothing to improve his looks--and most definitely not his smell.

“You know,” said Fíli, raising his brows and looking as though he thought his uncle very, very slow indeed. “If you really want to know, you could just ask him.”

Thorin scowled at him, but he merely smiled and shrugged.

“You know I’m right.”

Much as it pained him to admit it, Fíli was, of course, right. Speculation was pointless--the only way to find out was to ask outright.

It still took him a couple of days to gather his wits enough to ask properly. He’d made a fool of himself in front of Bilbo on enough occasions--not again. This time, rather than blurting it out like a rude fool, he worked up to it carefully. He made certain that he gave no sign of having something to ask until he was finished working for the afternoon. He very casually started cleaning up, and when he spoke, he kept his tone under tight control, normal and as nonchalant as he could manage so that Bilbo wouldn’t feel struck out of the blue.

“Don’t you get bored, sitting there for hours while I pound metal?”

There was so much more to it than that, but he couldn’t expect Bilbo to see the artistry of it. It had to be boring from his perspective.

Bilbo pointed with his pipe. “You turned _that_ into _that_. I confess I don’t understand it no matter how many times I watch, but I feel privileged to witness such fine work all the same.”

It took a second for Thorin to register the words, but as soon as he had, a wave of heat crashed over him.

_He appreciates my craft…._

Was there anything anyone could say that was more attractive to a dwarf?

Bilbo _liked his work_ , Bilbo thought it _fine_.

The same thought ran round and round in his head, dizzying and warming Thorin until all he wanted was to vault over the anvil between them, drop to his knees, and take Bilbo in his mouth, to show him even a fraction of the appreciation he felt at having his skill in his craft openly complimented by his One.

Through sheer force of will, he stayed where he was, the anvil conveniently hiding the effect of Bilbo’s words from view. His smile, though, he couldn’t hide, and when Bilbo smiled back, he was glad of it.

“Ah,” he said haltingly. “It…. Thank you.”

Bilbo’s smile widened and his cheeks flushed becomingly, and Thorin quickly turned to finish cleaning up before he did something truly shameful, like push Bilbo up against a wall and kiss him senseless.


End file.
